Here’s an excerpt from this week’s dream journal. It was written late at night in a moment when I was really feeling like I wanted to give up on just about everything, especially my art. While I am usually a pretty positive person, I am still human, and go through deep, painful moments of my own all the time. I usually keep them to myself, but I thought I’d share this with all of you as a little piece of my experience of picking myself up, dusting myself off, and getting back on the road of life by writing myself through it. I am working on a demo for a song I wrote during a few very hard times in my life. It’s a song that came to me at the death of a very close friend, and was finished during the shattering of a friendship that meant the world to me. It has no name yet, but it is asking the world from me. It is reminding me that I am not perfect, not polished, and not the person that I wish I could be a lot of the time. I am being faced with all of my shortcomings, and not good enoughs, and I am trying my best not to give in:
“tonight i could write the saddest lines…
lines about self deceit , and self defeat.
lines about how I would give up, if only I knew what would come next.
It’s been so long.
So many years of dreaming upon dream. So many winding roads that have lead to more winding roads.
So many moments of pressure and anticipation that have only yielded more goals and deadlines.
It’s not to say that I haven’t tasted success.
I’ve had countless sweet moments of creative fulfillment and recognition.
It just seems a little harder lately.
Like the weight of the years spent in the race are heavy on my back, and each note I sing holds more yearning and heartfelt rattle.
I guess it means I’m getting better…
Here I am at another crux, another ‘most important moment.’
The pressure is on each word I write, but I can’t feel it the same because parts of me have let go.
There is a fine line between letting go, and giving up, and I am walking it.
But I am here. Here in the moment where I am writing an album, and here in the moment where I am bringing every last drop of momentum from the bottom of my soul, and using it. I have been called to action, and I have dedicated myself to the grind. I will work even when I am not feeling it. Work through until I feel it again, until I’ve made something of my insides.
And so tonight I’ve made it back to the page, and my rambling thoughts. Made it to this moment by candlelight in the late hours of the evening, and I sit crouched like a scribe waiting for the muse to come in.
There is actually a physical pain that must be pushed through sometimes. A gnawing, grinding feeling in the pit of my stomach. It has a voice too. It says that I’ll never write another song, or become the musician I am meant to become. It says that I’ve wasted too much time living life, not practicing, not hustling, not touring, or kissing ass somewhere. It says that with each breath the dream slips from me, and that I may as well not even try.
But I’m not listening—not all the way. I know that I would rather try, and fail than not try at all. It’s this half-trying that I can’t take any more of. It’s sickening, and my intention is to throw it off completely. And so tonight, I sit counting wishes, and wondering if the stars have heard all I’ve had to say.
It’s been so hard. It’s been so fucking hard.
Reading over my old journals has been gut wrenching. I see the words of a person so sure of success, so full of drive… but the thing that doesn’t show is the paralysis that sat over my soul at the same time that I was striving for so much. So many nights when I just couldn’t bring myself to make anything, so many years without a space of my own, or a means of creation. Now I have it all though. All the instruments, and computers, and musicians. Now I have the fans, the audience, the spirit guides. Now I just have to plug the parts together, interface with my world.
Sounds easy right?
Well, tonight, in this moment it just got a little bit easier.
I’m working it out. Bit by bit, word by word, I am living the promise.
The deal is made.
The net is cast.
And here I sit… as frightened as Wendy alight upon the windowsill about to leap into the night.
I have to trust that I can fly.
I have to trust the path.
I have to trust that this dream has lead me to a place that I’ve always wanted. That I’ve designed beyond my means, and that my joy will give me wings to meet the challenge. So tonight, I sit by the window and open the latch. Tonight, I let my dreams in… ”